


Usotsuki

by UglyTunaSandwich



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Crying, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Monologue, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29706330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UglyTunaSandwich/pseuds/UglyTunaSandwich
Summary: You said...
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 26





	Usotsuki

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meeks00](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meeks00/gifts).



> i was gonna take a nap. deadass. then meeks decided to choose fucking violence, so i said "oya? two can play at that game." i was gonna write this after i uploaded chapter five of that sakuatsukita. but this needed to be addressed promptly.

He and Kiyoomi walk into the empty venue. The chairs are covered in white satin, accented by periwinkle bows. Flowers matching in hue line the aisle. Carefully placed petals guide the way. Specs of gold shine under the indoor lighting, remnants of glitter Kiyoomi allowed for the occasion. 

The coolness of the room surrounds them, and Atsumu wraps Kiyoomi around his neck for the little comfort he can provide. The chill is meant to preserve the periwinkles and lucky bamboo that sit on either side of the altar. It was Kiyoomi’s suggestion to include the flora, insisting that they get them as fresh as possible, even if they weren’t in season. Atsumu hadn’t cared too much about it, but when Kiyoomi couldn’t fight anymore, he found himself picking up the mantle. Looking around, it was worth it. 

He observes the rest of the decorations set. Once he finds himself satisfied, he walks over to the white double-doors with golden handles. He finds it a little difficult to reach both at first, since it was meant for two people and not one, but he manages. 

“You ready for this, Omi-kun?”

He opens the doors with a flourish. Not as grand as he would like, but it would make do. 

“How do ya like that? They did good with the other room, but this one was the one I was worried about. I said we wanted silk everythin’! And you know what these bastards told me? ‘It’s gonna be expensive, Miya-senshu.’ And asked me about _synthetic fibers_. _Can you_ _believe that?_ ”

Atsumu’s voice echoes throughout the room. 

“So I told’em only the best for my Omi. Even ‘Samu! He was all–” Atsumu stops himself, the pain in his chest becoming unbearable for just a moment before he’s all smiles once again. “It doesn’t matter what that scrub said. For you? Only the best.”

Atsumu walks over to one of the roundtables, eyeing the light film of dust piling on the tablecloth’s surface. “Tch, can’t even do the bare minimum and keep the place clean. Sorry, I wanted everything to be perfect before you saw it. _But_ –” 

Atsumu picks up a small, glass figurine. It’s a fox wrapped in its tail, a miniature weasel lounged over its back. “I _was_ able to get the figures! They even gave me a discount!” He takes Kiyoomi to each of the tables, showing him the various positions and poses of each of the unique table toppers. 

“This one is my favorite!” He fingers the cool glass, admiring the craftsmanship. The fox is low on its front legs, its tail theoretically waving with mischief. The weasel is in a similar position, its nose touching the fox’s own. He stares for a minute. Two. Too many. His eyes become glossy. A small sniffle breaks his silence and brings him back to reality. 

“Oh, lemme show you the chopsticks! I know you said traditional ones were fine, but look at _this._ ” Atsumu remembers agonizing over the chopsticks with him, insisting that they had to be _just right_. Kiyoomi was fine with settling for bamboo, but Atsumu had a surprise waiting for him. He sits at one of the tall chairs behind a long table. One that had enough space for Osamu, his mother, Komori, and various family members and close friends. The one one next to him is only disturbed as Atsumu accidentally steps on the excess cloth that meets the floor. 

“Whoops, sorry about that. But look!” Atsumu shows him two sets of ceramic chopsticks, painted black and gold. Topaz bands hold the pairs together. They are identical except for the tips of the thicker ends. One was dipped in a deep maroon, another in a bumblebee yellow and parakeet green. 

“I know, I know. I’m such a sap, but you love me.” Atsumu picks up the set in front of his chair, not daring to touch Kiyoomi’s. He feels their weight, much heavier than he was used to. Everything was heavier now. The air. The court. Life itself. It was all so much heavier now. 

“Na, Omi-kun,” he starts. His voice sounds loud in his ears. His voice is heavier now with the weight of what was lost. “Why did ya do that for?”

Kiyoomi is silent. 

“Hidoi darou na.”

Kiyoomi waits patiently for Atsumu to continue. 

“What the hell am I supposed ta do with this? I mean _look_ ! You know yer obaasan even agreed ta come? _And she hates me._ ” Atsumu is silent for a little while, letting the words sink in so that Kiyoomi could understand the work he went through. The amount of times he’d begged and pleaded for her to attend for just an hour. One hour. 

“And now I...I ha– Ya didn’t haveta go!” he explodes. “We coulda just waited, but you’re so damn _stubborn._ ” Atsumu grits his teeth and lets the tears threatening his composure to fall. “Yer so _damn stubborn._ Always wantin’ ta see things through to the end.”

Atsumu’s throat burns anger. Pain. Hurt. Suffering. Sobs are barely held back as he says “Well ya didn’t see this to end.”

Kiyoomi offers no response. 

Atsumu laughs painfully at the memories that torment his mind. Kiyoomi’s smiles are needles to the pin cushion that is Sakusa Atsumu’s heart. 

Atsumu picks up a small, potted lucky bamboo plant. One of its stems is curved. It reminds Atsumu of the soft ringlets that donned his lover’s face in the early morning. In bright midday. In the late night. 

“Do you even know what the fuck _fukizasa means?!_ ” He throws the plant as hard as he can across the room. The shatter is the only noise that fills the room, its echoes taunt him as the sound bounces off the walls. 

It’s interrupted as Atsumu begins to heave with shaky breaths. “Ya know, Omi, I could forgive ya for the time you ate my onigiri. I could forgive ya for the time ya lost the house key.” Atsumu laughs with rue. The choked sounds become broken sobs. He loses his access to the air around him. He loses access to the light of the room. He loses access to him. 

“But ya know what? I can’t forgive ya for this.”

Atsumu clutches the ring around his neck in desperation. Hoping. Pleading. _Praying._ For nothing and for everything. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to his chest. “But I can’t.”

“Atsumu-senshu?” A small voice calls to him from the other side of the room. “Is everything alright? We heard the–”

“I’ll be out in a minute.” He keeps his face low. No one needs to see him like this. The one person who could…

Atsumu is still heavy. His body is heavy. His days are heavy. His heart is heavy. He carries this weight with him. He will for the rest of this life. 

“Usotsuki,” is the last thing he says before leaving the venue. 

Osamu waits for him in the car. He gives Atsumu time to calm his breathing.

“How did he like it?”

“He loved it.”

**Author's Note:**

> alright, real notes. 
> 
> lucky bamboo are chinese and with two stalks they are best for luck in love and marriage
> 
> alright, now that you're done crying or whatever, if you wanna see me spite more people just cause, follow me on twt :D  
> @u_suspend 
> 
> here's the culprit @meekswrites


End file.
